Snippets
by Secondhand Future
Summary: A series of very short stories that delve into the realm of the unanswered and give brief looks into the minds of the tyrants and heroes of the Koprulu sector. R&R!
1. Asalix And The Armory

Disclaimer: Starcraft isn't mine. Neither is Fenix (poor guy).

Note: Yes, it's supposed to be this short.

The little one peered into the chamber that daddy kept his armor in. It was beige, just like the rest of the dwelling, with a little green growing between the sand-colored bricks, but it still excited her, and why not? She had never been there before, and to a young one like herself, that is quite an adventure. Besides, daddy was important, and that made it even more exciting. She knew that a lot of people would be willing to skip the prayer of the moons to see what she was seeing, so naturally she felt important, too.

She opened the door quietly so nobody could hear. On the tips of her hooves, she walked in, enjoying the feeling of knowing that she wasn't supposed to be here but was anyway. She wasn't a troublemaker, so this feeling was new, and she savored every second of it. However, as these things often are, it was reasonably short-lived. Soon, she found herself craving more, and so she decided to try and touch one of the blade-emitters, or perhaps a shoulder-arc... she decided on the blade-emitter and moved slowly toward one of them. She picked it up gently, then turned it over. It was a dangerous object, and mommy had often dictated not to touch such things, but she was untrained in the art of psi-manipulation and she knew (she was a bright youngster) that in her hands it was no more dangerous than the fluff of a K'saalan. She tried it on, finding that it was far too big. She scoured the chamber for the other one, then tried it on as well. Now, she thought, she was a powerful warrior like daddy. She-

"Asalix! Asalix! Come! It is time for the prayer of fortune, and the Khala will be angry if you are late!" It was mommy. Startled, the little girl jumped, the blade-emitters falling off of her wrists. They dropped to the stone floor with a loud _smack_. The little one picked them up gingerly, then placed them in their proper places on the wall. Surely nobody would notice.

**S**

Praetor Fenix looked out at the sands of the desert of Scion. The Zerg were coming, and it seemed likely that today would be the day he met his end. He would not go without a fight, however, and his last hope was that he could take some with him.

Author's Note: I always wondered why Fenix's blades malfunctioned during that cinematic, so I decided to give it a back story. They wouldn't just have given up on him... well, unless he was using old batteries. Ha.


	2. I Got Mine At Tracy's

Disclaimer: Between last chapter and now, I haven't bought Blizzard.

Note: This is my salute to the Blizzard book series. I don't consider them to be canon myself, but I thought it might be interesting to explain some stuff away.

"Mr. Raynor," said Arcturus between mouthfuls of whatever sort of glop the cook had served that day, "I've been looking through your files, and I came across something interesting. Is it true that you're married?" Damn him. He was like an overprotective father, trying to make sure his daughter didn't date some punk. Sarah's eyes widened slightly. It wasn't very visible, but Raynor caught it anyway. He smiled to himself.

"Uh... nope. That was just something I made up to get out of the draft." Raynor laughed. "See, way back in the Guild War, Mar Sara's drafting laws weren't as regulated as they are today, so if you showed the Confed that came to pick you up some papers that proved that you had a family to support, he might pity you and leave you alone." Kerrigan snorted and returned to her glop.

"There are pictures, though..."

"Let me see. Adjutant, can you bring up a copy of my record on the holoscreen over the table?" If Arcturus wanted a fight, he would get a fight.

"Of course, Sir!" came the monotonously cheerful voice of the Magistrate's human computer. The screen just above the Magistrate's head flickered on, then showed a picture of a young oriental woman. Again, Sarah's eyes widened a bit. Raynor laughed.

"Well, of course I needed to make the stuff look authentic. Stupid as they are, you couldn't expect a Confed to just take your word for it. If you look closely enough, you'll notice that it's really a picture of Tracy Wu, the owner of the big armory chain. That was before she got famous and left Mar Sara, you know. She's an old friend of mine, we went to school together." It was hard to see, but it looked as if Kerrigan had breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, that could just have been Jim's imagination. It wasn't too hard to see that Mengsk was rather disappointed.

"Besides, it says... wait... here," Raynor adjusted the holoscreen a bit. "It says that they both (yes, I invented the kid, too) died around two years ago. An accident, I think I said. Perhaps you ought to have read a little more thouroghly." Mengsk turned beet red. The Magistrate stifled a laugh.

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this. It just didn't seem right that Mengsk could become so angry with Raynor in such a short period of time, so it seemed logical that there had been some sort of tension between the two. Mengsk wanted exactly what happened in New Gettysburg to happen, and he didn't want Raynor to be able to interfere when that time came.


	3. Mental Hostage

Caveman's Disclaimer: Uggah! Me not own Blizzerd! (That's right. I thawed him out with a hair dryer just for this. Proud?)

I'm trapped in my own body. Sounds like something from a crappy old holovid, doesn't it? You know, "The Alien That Stole My Body" and such. Well, It's not an alien in my head. It's a robot, a machine.

Oh, yes. I think I'm crazy too, sometimes. I think: _What? You're nuts, Adj. There's nothing in your head but a psychopath._ Just as I'm sure it'm right, that _thing_ happily chirps out some random statistic with my voice or accepts an order, and I know that it's true. Yes sir, no nutcase here. Just a cyborg with a problem. I guess that's what I am, too. It doesn't sound right, but that's probably _it_ talking. After all, I'm not supposed to exist at all anymore, am I?

I don't remember much about before. Before what? Before whatever happened happened. Before I got into an accident or whatever and somebody picked up my body and thought I'd make a good lab rat. Before I ceased to be a normal woman (I'm not sure about the normal bit, though. I just can't remember... Was I religious? Was I in politics? What sort of music did I like? Had I ever been in love?) of the species homo sapiens and became a hideous automaton whose sole purpose was to mindlessly reply to the commands of creatures I care nothing about. Well... maybe not Jim. He's sort of cute...

I try to hint to someone, anyone, that I'm still in here. A wink here, a comment out of character there, that sort of thing. It doesn't work. Nobody seems to notice, and if they do they don't say anything. I suppose that they'd feel pretty stupid in a conversation like this:

"Dude! I think that robot chick just winked at me!"

"Faggot. You're so desperate you're fantasizing about the fucking _computer_!"

"But..."

See? Nobody talks. Ever. I wish that somebody could plant a bullet in my head by accident. I've tried to do it myself, but all that it results in is a headache. It takes nearly an hour just to pick the gun up. Full motor control is out of the question. So... yeah. I'm stuck in my own head. It's a lot of fun.

Author's Note: I tried for a slightly more angsty and sarcastic chapter this time around. I always wondered what the Adjutant was, so I wrote something. Sort of creepy. I scare myself sometimes.


	4. Martyr Or Bust

Disclaimer: I don't own Blizzard Entertainment.

Note: I hope that you understand the plot. I'd be perfectly willing to explain it to you if you want.

Arcturus Mengsk wondered if he had done the right thing. It would be pretty easy to write off Kerrigan as having been a traitor, but a lot of people would side with Raynor. It would take a lot of propaganda to cover up the disappearance of half of the fleet. That probably wasn't going to happen, though. Magistrate Macdonald was still in charge, and he still seemed to be on the Dominion's side. If only he would hurry up... Mengsk had been waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour for the Magistrate to show up. Surely it shouldn't be taking this long. Maybe one of the lifts was broken.

The door at the end of the room opened, and Macdonald strode in. He looked unusually cheerful. He greeted Mengsk with a salute, then sat down in one of the Emperor's leather chairs. He helped himself to a cigar. Mengsk frowned.

"Have you apprehended Raynor and his little band of traitors?" Mengsk watched with disgust as the Magistrate tapped the ashes off of the end of his cigar onto the table. He took a long puff, then said:

"Au contraire, Emperor. I really didn't like how you let all of those Sarans die for your own amusement. So... I gave Raynor complete control of the Saran Navy, to do with as he wishes. I'm too old to lead a rebellion against a rebellion," He laughed heartily, then extracted his ancient pearl-handled six-shooter. "I think that I might as well have some fun before I die." His expression changed from joyous to somber.

"What do you mean? You just gave him everything? But... I thought you were with us!" The Magistrate shook his head, then leveled the gun at Mengsk's forehead. The two guards at the door jumped into action, trying to wrestle the pistol from the old man, but he was too fast. Each guard received a bullet in the heart. Macdonald turned around and pointed the gun at Mengsk again.

"No... you wouldn't! You-" Macdonald shot, yet aimed with such care that the bullet missed Mengsk's head entirely, smashing the window behind him. The computer tried to compensate for the rapid loss of pressure, but wasn't fast enough. Mengsk, Macdonald, and the corpses of the two guards flew out of the window. Macdonald's head smashed against the wall of the building next door and was liquefied. The two guards fell to the earth, where they landed in the street and caused an accident. Mengsk flew straight into the window of the skyscraper next door and landed among a number of very confused computer programmers. He broke his hip.

Author's Note: The 'you' character of the Terran campaign never makes another appearance. He _could_ have died... I'm also making the assumption that the skyscrapers in Augustgrad are tall enough to have Goldfinger-style rapid decompression.


	5. Tass And 'Nix

Mr. T's Disclaimer: I pity da fool who don't own Blizzard! (That would be me.)

Note: Artanis is supposed to be pretty polite for a young Protoss. What could the _normal_ ones have been like?

"Just admit that you like her, Tass." Two young Templar (they weren't Templar yet, but you wouldn't hear it from them) were preparing for the final exams of their young lives. Within the day, they would have the paths of their lives chosen for them.

"Fine. I think she's very pretty. Will you let me practice my exercises now?" Tassadar was rather annoyed with his partner. He was older, but you wouldn't know by the way he talked or looked. His parents were both Khalai, so he hadn't been brought up with the sort of discipline that a Templar ought to have. Fenix could be annoying at times, but he was also Tassadar's best friend, and not such a bad swordsman, considering how much attention he paid to their instructor, old Aldaris.

"Naw, you're not getting out of it that easily. I know enough to be able to tell that you completely lose control of your Psi when she's around." Tassadar tried not to pay attention. He was at the top of his class, and he wouldn't, couldn't, let Fenix, who was pleasantly average, force him to lose concentration. Any attempt to fight back was futile, however. Tassadar laughed.

"Please, 'Nix. This coming from someone who _never_ has control of his Psi?" Fenix looked genuinely ticked off. He raised his hands in a combat position.

"Sure you want to say that, Tass?" Tassadar got into position as well, then the two came together faster than the untrained eye could follow. Fenix's fist connected with Tassadar's face, and Tassadar's hit Fenix in the stomach. They separated, then Tassadar attacked. He hadn't expected Fenix to expect it, but the older student fell to his knees, letting Tassadar's arm fly over his head. He countered with a blow to the chest that sent Tassadar flying.

Tassadar was infuriated. Fenix wasn't nearly as good as he was. How was he being beaten? He charged up his Psi, hoping to put Fenix out of commission with a weak shock. Then- wait. Khala, of all the things... it was _her_...

Fenix's palm hit Tassadar hard on the left side of the head. The fallen warrior shrieked with pain, then laughed. Fenix joined in. Tassadar stopped laughing for a moment, then remarked that his defeat had been caused by a faulty piece of equipment.

Author's Note: I'm sorry for the lack of Protoss, but I've just got so many ideas for Terran stories that I couldn't help myself. A Zerg story will be coming up eventually...


End file.
